


The Knife Ear at Halamshiral

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan [28]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Prompt Fic, hints of Solavellan, orlesians are assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:47:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8538943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: Isii is called a racial slur at the Winter Palace. She responds as only a good player of the Game can.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set after [Chapter 5 of Ma Halamshiral](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2908469/chapters/6481532).  
> Originally posted to tumblr on Feb 6, 2016.

She’d been reluctant to pull away from Solas. Not only was it tempting to find respite from the annoyances of Orlesian politics in the pleasure of his company, but she was more than simply intrigued by the change in his behavior. It was subtle, as all things were concerning Solas, yet unmistakable. He was different here, appearing to drink in the atmosphere in a way that emboldened him. She couldn’t quite comprehend why and the mystery intrigued her. It tempted her to push the unspoken boundaries between them further, to see where the limits of his more blatant flirtation would take her, but this was not the place for that. Even as conscious as she had been of their potential audience, their physical familiarity just now had most likely not gone entirely unnoticed. As much as she hated it, she had to consider her reputation at court. Being far too publicly intimate with her “serving man” was not going to be seen well by most.

That thought still lingered in her mind as she walked across the hall, only a few paces from Solas’ spot by the statuette, when she heard the words.

“Dirty knife ears.”

Her jaw clenched tightly and she resisted the urge to whip around, slowly turning her head with a casual air to search for the source of the bitterly grumbled insult. The man made no attempt to hide himself, not avoiding her gaze as their eyes made contact. He glanced back at Solas and then to her once more. It was obviously directed at the pair of them. It was not the first time this evening she had overheard those words being muttered in her presence, but this was the first that had been so direct. This was not some whispered conversation between two guests. The man had said it specifically for her ears alone.

She took a step closer. In normal circumstances, she would scream at him, give him a piece of her mind. But this was the Winter Palace and that was not how the Game was played. “Knife ear does seem an appropriate descriptor, does it not?” she asked, forcing a smile. “For when I hear something that displeases me, one should fear getting cut. And I do hear so very much.” She kept her tone pleasant, speaking as if she were commenting on the beautiful weather rather than delivering a thinly-veiled threat.

The man’s lips curled back, a sneering smile peeking out from the edge of his half-mask. “Then it is a blessing, Herald. For you should be able to properly comprehend what people think of you.”

She ran the tip of her tongue hard against her molars, yet kept her expression unmoved. “Perhaps that is why Andraste chose me, then? She can hear all, while I can only hear more than most. I may be able to forget careless words, but the wife of the Maker is far more capable of recalling each utterance.” She folded her hands gently across her stomach in an attempt to keep herself from balling them into fists. “A curious proposition, don’t you think? I will be certain to discuss it with the Left Hand of the Divine. She has so many insights into how one handles slights against the Maker and His bride.”

His smug smile fell. Based on his reaction, Isii could not tell which the man feared worse – offending Andraste or getting on the wrong side of the Nightingale. Even though she didn’t believe a single word of this farce, this tale of the false-god’s prophetess who supposedly lifted her from the Fade, she knew it was an effective tool to use when speaking to the Andrastian shems. His lips parted for a moment, trying to find words and yet had none. He merely bowed his head stiffly and retreated.


End file.
